I was in this very boring meeting but had this fabulous flashback in my days when I was in nursery school. I remember the first day in school. It was both terrifying and exciting. Exciting because I had never been to a school and the thought of being left in a place where I knew no familiar face made me cry my eyes out. I remember not wanting to let go of my dad’s hand but the his promise of coming to get me made me trust him.
Now that day, that first day was one confusing day for me. It was a muhindi’s school and the teachers were chuts. So half of the entire day, I had no idea as to what was going on. I could not understand what the teacher was seming, but I enjoyed the hot milk and biscuits we used to be given. Later on I came to understand a few English syllables with chuti accent in the mix. I was among the few black toi’s in class and I never minded bullying the chut toi’s. They were so vulnerable, sweet and chubby face that one of them actually stopped me in the streets two years ago and told me that I used to bully him when we were in nursery and class one. I thought that he was going to beat me up but instead he took me out for coffee, we got to talking and we still talk till this day.
Anyway the excitement died out with time and soon waking up in the morning was becoming a hustle for me. My dad would be the one to wake me up and I always had the five minutes and my dad being the time keeper he would always wake me up exactly five minutes from the wake up call. He would wash my face and dress me up.
Made sure that I have eaten and finished my breakfast, syke me up for school.This went on till the day he passed on. Yeah I was a daddy’s girl and and no one has a say on that one.
Till this day every time the alarm goes off and I do not feel like it, I remember my dad’s wise words “you will miss out on the fun”.
I still do the snooze but its ten minutes instead of five. Talk about aging fast and old habits dying hard.
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